


The Last Letter

by sgamadison



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew he shouldn't have had that second glass of Radek's home-brewed vodka.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2009 Epistolary Challenge, in which letters played an important role in the story. Takes place between S4 and S5.

Dear Rodney:

I know you weren’t expecting to get any sort of letter like this from me. Well, okay, you might have expected the _need_ for such a letter. In fact, I’m sure you very realistically considered the exact odds of that some time ago.

You just didn’t expect to receive one. Not from me. Not from the ‘man of few words’. Those words being primarily ‘laconic’ and ‘sardonic’. Right? Oh c’mon. You can admit it here, just between friends. I’ll let you in on a little secret. I was on my third reading of _War and Peace_ when Elizabeth chided me that time for my slow schedule. I let her think it and somehow it became one of the city’s longest running jokes. I’ll read just about anything. The days and nights in Antarctica were pretty damn long and nobody was too fussy about what they read when they got something new for a change. Bodice-rippers, mysteries, sci-fi, true crime, you name it. Classics too. _War and Peace_ was already packed in my gear. I brought it along because I _forgot_ about it. 

Of course, you are well within your rights to think that about me. I mean, I haven’t been the best about keeping up with family. We weren’t exactly the birthday celebrating type. I doubt Hallmark ever made a dime on us. We seldom made the effort it would take to be home for the holidays. My dad was on a business trip the day I graduated from high school. He had dismissed the event with ‘if you’ve been to one high school graduation, you’ve been to them all’. He had a bit of a point, really. I remember skipping my college graduation myself. 

You always wondered why I never put together a video to send back to Earth in the datastream that first time we knew the Wraith were coming. Truth was, everyone I really cared about was already there in Pegasus. And I couldn’t say goodbye to them. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Not to you or Elizabeth. Not to Teyla or Carson or Ford. God. We did end up losing just about everyone on that list, didn’t we? Isn’t that just a punch in the gut? And I never really got to say my goodbyes then either. I don’t want to make that mistake again.

Point is, you never asked why I saved a copy of your video on ‘leadership’. You know, the one I showed Jeannie that time she came to Atlantis. I saved it, because despite all your blather about what constituted a leader and how you were the embodiment of it (really, McKay, what were you thinking?), you had some really great moments there when you tried to tell Jeannie how you felt. I saw the real McKay there, and I thought for the first time that there was something more than just the bluster and the self-aggrandizing (hey, it’s your fault for giving me that word-a-day calendar). I knew you were smart; I’d already put you on my team and had learned to deal with your quirks. But that moment told me there was a lot more to you than meets the eye. I hope over time, you’ve learned the same about me. What I learned about you then is that you’re a much braver man than you give yourself credit for, Rodney. Braver than me. Don’t forget that.

So, no. I didn’t send any ‘letters’ home that time. But I wrote them to everyone here in Pegasus. It was easy to do then, because I was pretty sure that no one would ever get to see them. But then as time went on and we managed to survive against some pretty damn impressive odds, it began to occur to me that some day I might not be so lucky while everyone else makes it and so there you are. Too often in my life, I didn’t get a letter like this after I’d lost someone and I wished with all my heart that I could have heard their voice just one more time, heard just one more word from them. I’ve seen people get such letters and though it seems to devastate them at the time, it always brought them a weird sort of closure, so I figured I should do the same for the people I care about.

The only problem is that things change. I’ve had to destroy letters I’ve written to some people because the unthinkable happened and they died before me. I’ve had to scrap some letters and start over because the events here in Pegasus have changed so drastically that nothing written down before matters anymore. So I sorta got in the habit of re-writing these letters every few months. You’d think it be some kind of a gruesome task, but the truth of it is I get an odd sort of peace out of doing it. What would Heightmeyer have said about that, huh? 

So back to today. If you’re reading this particular version of this letter than I am not only dead (big surprise) but I also died before we managed to rescue Teyla. I know I’m dropping a helluva burden on you here, Rodney, but I’ve seen those shoulders and I know they’re broad enough to take it. _Don’t let them give up on Teyla_. I know, I know. You wouldn’t and I wouldn’t but this is more than just team or family or whatever. Michael wanted her for a very specific reason and something tells me that whatever Michael’s plans are, it is very important that we don’t let him follow through with them. I also don’t give two cents for Teyla’s life once that baby is born, so our time is running out. If you’re reading this, it can only mean that I’ve fucked up royally somehow before we brought her home. I hate leaving you with this buddy, but I have to. If there was any way I could come back and fix things, you know I would. But since I don’t much hold for that sort of thing, let me just tell you here that if you let the IOA pull the plug on finding Teyla, I will haunt your ass. You read that right, McKay. Haunt you. I will be hanging over your shoulder with every mouthful of tormack you take. I’ll be standing behind you every time you look in the mirror. I’ll wake you in the middle of the night. I’ll cause Ancient doo-hickeys to go berserk in your presence. Don’t fuck with me, McKay.

Okay, just kidding. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that second glass of Radek’s vodka. That stuff’s deadly. 

But we’ve got to bring Teyla home.

Which reminds me. I know Carson is your friend and all. Hell, he’s my friend too. But the Carson in our city now is not the same person who died in that explosion a few years back. He’s been artificially created and subjected to god knows what. Michael has control over him in ways we can’t comprehend and ways that Carson himself can’t fight. It’s not that he would want to betray us; he can’t help it. So until we find some sort of ‘cure’ for him, don’t trust him. Not completely. I know that’s gonna be hard for you, because you’re pretty much an all or nothing kind of guy. I like that about you, I really do. I always know where I stand with you. Not like the sneaky bastard that I can be. But just be careful, okay?

Which brings me to Ronon. Yeah. I know. You know as well as I do without Teyla and me to anchor him, Ronon is not likely to stay behind in Atlantis. In some ways I worry about him the most. Ronon has fought for and lost so much in his life. I don’t think he ever thought he’d have another chance to care about anyone again, and I don’t think I’m stretching it too far to say that we, all of us (even _you_ , McKay) matter to Ronon. I see a lot of myself in him sometimes, only there’s a wildness and anger to him that even I can’t match. I’ve always dreaded finding out what it took to create that kind of rage. At least with me being dead now, I never have to know what it feels like to lose Atlantis. Ronon will leave the city within months of my death if you don’t find Teyla. You can count on it. And I don’t think this time, he’ll care all that much what happens to him, as long as he takes as many Wraith with him as he can.

So that leaves you. 

Funny, this letter is addressed to you and I’m only just now getting around to acknowledging that fact. Note to self: Radek’s vodka is off-limits to military personnel the night before any major objective. I should ping Lorne with that right now before I forget.

Where was I? Oh. Right. Avoiding the issue. You gotta admit, I’m pretty damn good at that. A lifetime’s practice will make you good at anything.

Hey, you want confession time? Can I say right here that I really think you dodged a major bullet with that whole Katie Brown thing? Face it, McKay. It would have never worked. Sure, she was sweet and pretty but she always looked like she was about to burst into tears on a _good_ day and I’m pretty sure you spent most of your time trying to censor what you said to her. You shouldn’t have to censor yourself, Rodney. You should be able to say what’s on your mind. The people who love you will accept you for that. Okay, you might have to censor yourself a little bit. Like the way we tell you to keep your mouth shut when we’re on a mission so you don’t get us all killed. But you know we say that with _love_ , right?

Taking pot shots at you isn’t as much fun without you there in front of me to volley them back. You’ve got a mean verbal right hook. I’ve always both admired and enjoyed that about you.

More confession time.

I didn’t stop with two shots of vodka.

And…

Whoa. I’ve just stared at that sentence for thirty minutes now. See, you’re braver than me. Because I’ve written maybe 24 drafts of this letter over the last four years and I have never yet told you how I really feel about you. Kind of pathetic when you think about it. I mean, that’s the whole point of these letters in the first place, right? It’s just that it’s not all that easy to put into words. I’m not even sure I understand it myself. It sure as hell doesn’t make sense when you look at it objectively.

You’re just the most important person in my life, McKay. How weird is that? I count on you to pull a miracle out of your ass almost every week. I think you’re funny and brilliant and enjoy just hanging out with you. There’s no one I’d rather ‘go down with the ship’ than you, though in this case, I’m sorta glad it’s just me here this time. I think Jeannie was full of shit when she tried to compare you to me and suggest that you’d better snap up Katie real quick. What’s with women and this need-to-be-married crap anyway? I’ve been married and I have to tell you, that relationship pales to the one that I have with you. You know what, Jeannie was right in one respect. You aren’t me. You’re better than me. You’re not afraid to put your heart on the line or let people into your life. I gotta tell you, the ease with which you accepted Carson-as-clone as your best friend again made me fear for you…but also made me admire you too.

And as for your looks. You’re pretty hot in your own scruffy, impish, kinetic, explosive Rodney McKay kind of way. Don’t settle for the Katies of this world, okay? You deserve better. Figure out what you really want and don’t be afraid to go for it. Pegasus doesn’t always give you the luxury of time.

I’m sorry I couldn’t say more when I was actually there. Hell, I’m sorry I can’t seem to say more _now_. I just wish things could have been different and that I would have gotten my head out of my ass earlier. Maybe it’s just as well. I’m not exactly the petite, hot blonde type. For all I know, you’re totally freaking out right now. I hope not. The last thing I want to do is hurt you in any way. And I’d hate for your memories of me to be tainted by something you never wanted. Maybe that’s why these kinds of letters are never a good idea. Maybe this one will be the last draft I ever write. This is why I’ve never said anything before, because having you in my life, even as just friends, was more important than taking that risk. 

You seem to have a thing with Keller heating up now. If that’s what you want, Rodney, more power to you. I know that you with that bulldog tenacity of yours will fight for whatever you truly desire. 

I guess since I’m dead, it really doesn’t matter if this letter falls into the ‘wrong’ hands anymore, does it? I wish you well, McKay. Don’t make me haunt you.

John

 

****

“Wait,” Hologram Rodney said to John as he was about to step into the stasis chamber. 

John looked back over his shoulder at Rodney, who looked far too much like a Grumpy Old Man, right down to the Mr. Roger’s sweater and comfortable shoes.

“When you were declared dead,” Rodney shuffled a bit uneasily. “There was a letter among your effects addressed to me.”

John got very still.

Hologram Rodney produced a hologram letter from the pocket of his cardigan. John could see that the paper was dog-eared and creased from having been read and folded many times. 

“Oh. That.” John climbed into the chamber and dropped his arms to his sides, closing his eyes. “Yeah. Well, don’t worry about that, McKay. I’ll take care of that first thing.”

“You’ll destroy it, you mean,” Rodney said sharply, making John open his eyes again. “Don’t. He needs to see it. _I_ need to see it.”

John felt the weird displacement in time and space really hit home for the first time. He was thousands of years out of synch with his city, standing among the dust of her remains. Everyone he’d ever known and loved was dead—how ironic was that? That he’d be the last one alive? Even this image of Rodney in front of him, the only thing providing him with any hope of returning home at all, was a projection of a Rodney long dead. He’d patently ignored the reality of an aged Rodney before him, even as he’d rejected the outcomes of everyone he knew. He hadn’t even fully processed the idea that he was supposed to step into a stasis pod and wait out the time needed until the right conditions would recur to send him back. Would he survive to take back the information he needed to save everyone else? Would he age despite the stasis, the way Old Elizabeth had done? He was prepared to make that sacrifice.

He wasn’t sure he could do what Rodney was asking.

“Rodney,” he began, hating the whine in his voice.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I sacrificed a hell of a lot to be here today. You _owe_ me, Sheppard.” If he could have, Hologram Rodney would have poked him in the chest.

John sighed. “Fine. Can we hurry this up, Rodney? Before I die of radiation poisoning?”

“Promise?” Rodney persisted.

“Cross my heart and hope to die. Shall we do a pinky shake on that too?”

Rodney made a face at him and activated the controls. The wall of stasis fell down on him and blessedly there was nothing else.

****

John was ransacking his quarters when the chime rang. “What?” he shouted distractedly as he opened another drawer. Damn it, it wasn’t there.

Rodney barreled into the center of the room, only to come to an uncertain stop. He was holding the envelope in his hand, tapping it nervously against his thigh.

“Little premature to be going through my effects, isn’t it, Rodney?” John knew he should have been just damn glad to be back and in time to still do something about Teyla, but the events of the ‘day’ had proven to be just a little stressful.

“Not my decision. You were gone twelve days. You’re lucky you still have a room. Prime real estate you’ve got here and everyone envies the sparkly curtains.”

John held out his hand. “I want my letter back.”

Rodney held it up and looked at the envelope. “Technically, it’s _my_ letter, I believe.”

John stalked over and snatched it from his hand. He paused when he flipped it over and looked at the flap. It appeared to still be sealed. “You haven’t read it?”

Rodney apparently heard the incredulity in his voice and made a face at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a little busy with everyone else around here trying to figure out what happened to you and how to bring you back. I haven’t had time to read your deep, dark, vodka-induced confessions.”

John froze in the act of pocketing the letter. “Excuse me, what did you say?”

Rodney got a rabbit-in-the-headlights kind of look and began to waffle. “That is to say, I can only presume that you’d make some sort of confessional out of a final missive and that you’d only manage to get _that_ far under the influence of Radek’s finest. Really, truly, I have no idea what the letter says.” His face was a bright red and he swallowed hard at the end of his speech.

Okay then. It was like that. Well, better he know that now. Now he could just put aside his weird obsession with Rodney and move on. How smart of Rodney to pretend ignorance in the name of saving the friendship.

“Oh. Well, thanks for giving it back. It no longer really applies anyway. So look, Rodney. It’s been a really long day. Like thirty thousand years plus long. All I want to do is take a long, hot shower and scrub some of this sand away. You’ll get all the details, or at least the ones I can share, at the briefing with everyone else in the morning, okay?”

“Okay. Right.” Rodney was nodding thoughtfully and John was relieved to see him as he always was, dressed in his science blues, his quirky energy radiating off of him. John would have to tell him that he still had hair as an old man and then evilly, at the last moment, decided he would not.

He was totally unprepared when Rodney suddenly launched himself forward and crushed him in a Rodney-hug.

It caught him by complete surprise—he froze with the shock of it until his tired body began to relax into the warmth and strength surrounding him and he reached up with his hands to pat Rodney tentatively on the shoulder. “Don’t do that again,” Rodney was muttering into the side of his neck, scratchy with sand.

“Can’t promise.”

Rodney pulled his head back to glare fiercely at John. “Lie,” he demanded.

“I’m good at that,” John conceded. He started to ease himself out of Rodney’s arms.

“And not just to me,” Rodney muttered before raising his voice again. “Yes, yes, you should really go take a shower,” Rodney started to wave him off. “Unless you’d like…um, help with that?”

Rodney looked at him hopefully. John felt his mouth open and close. He blinked and tried again.

“No, no, you’re right. What was I thinking? You’re exhausted and filthy and all you really want is a simple shower right now. I’ll just take this for safe keeping,” he reached forward and snagged the letter sticking out of John’s back pocket. “Why don’t I just go down to the mess and grab us some dinner?”

“Okay,” John said slowly. It felt like his head was spinning.

“And after dinner, I’ll put you to bed. If you like.” Rodney’s face in turns was seductive and self-castigating. He just barely avoided wringing the letter in his hands.

John took pity on him. “Um, bed sounds nice.” He felt his face flame as he spoke and he scratched a little patch of sand behind his ear.

“Really? Well, of _course_ it does…” Rodney gave him a suddenly suspicious glance, as though John might be jerking his chain and it made John laugh out loud.

“C’mere,” he motioned tiredly with one hand.

Rodney moved cautiously into his reach. He folded Rodney into his arms and leaned on him, letting Rodney hold him up, as he’d always done, whether he knew it or not. When John lifted his head, Rodney leaned forward and brushed his lips with a kiss, looking both defiant and scared in its aftermath.

“See?” John said, dropping his voice to a whisper as he leaned in for a kiss of his own. “Bravest man I know.”

~fin~


End file.
